


Save My World From Burning

by Krasimer



Series: Dreams of You 'Verse [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Falling In Love, I will always find you, M/M, Multi, slightly nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:08:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifth installment of the Dreams of You 'Verse.</p><p>Things are all coming together and falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Creatures of The Night, They Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I meant for this to be sweet and fluffy and cute and then this happened. 
> 
> THERE IS SOME SLIGHT PORN-TYPE STUFF IN THIS.
> 
> It's not much, it's nothing too bad, but I figured I would warn everyone.
> 
> There is also angst in this chapter. Like enough more than usual that I felt the need to put it in the tags and in this note. 
> 
> ...I am so sorry...

The first thing that William thinks when he wakes up is that he must have frightened Thomas.

He realized, just seconds after that thought, that his face was pressed against a pillow, his hair was slightly wet around his forehead, and someone was holding his hand. 

Clearing his throat, he opened his eyes and glanced around, fingers tightening around Thomas's when he noticed the man sitting there and staring at him. A relieved sigh slipped out, like he couldn't hold it back. 

"I don't think I can count how many times you've scared me in the last couple of days," Thomas muttered, pressing kisses to   
William's knuckles. "But I can say that if you continue like this, I'll never leave your side out of fear that without me there, something will end up killing you."

Laughing, William shook his head. "Not sure that's quite a compliment. Should I be smacking you for that comment?"

"Please don't." 

They both chuckled for a second longer before falling into silence. The room was warm, William was still drowsy after whatever had happened to him, and Thomas was right there. That was what made his heart ache happily. Thomas was within reach, he wasn't going mad, and there was no way that William was going to let him go.

"Thorin..." he whispered, curling his fingers tightly around Thomas's. 

The other man hunched over, the bridge of his nose pressed to William's wrist, Muttering something, his eyes drifted closed as he started tearing up. Listening closely, William could make out the words.

Thomas was saying "I'm sorry." over and over again.

"Thorin, it's alr-"

"No it's not." 

William sat back, eyes wide. There was hatred in Thomas's voice, but it wasn't aimed at William, it was aimed at himself. The look on his face was heartbreaking.

"I'm sorry for everything I did to you, My Bilbo. I ruined the world we might have had. The greed consumed me and I let it. I died before I could tell you how I wanted to apologize, before I could mend the bonds between us." Thomas took a deep breath, choking slightly on the air. "I destroyed myself and I broke whatever loyalty you might have had for me."

"Stop it." William chided, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I should, by all rights, leave you be forever more. I have no excuse for how I acted." Thomas pulled back, as if he were going to separate their hands.

William tugged him closer instead, resting their foreheads together. He tightened his grip and summoned his fiercest glare. "I told you to stop it. Don't you dare pull away from me again."

When Thomas looked like he was going to argue some more, William held his other hand over his mouth. "You wronged me. You ruined me. You broke our world."

The other man turned his head away, focusing on the ground.

Using the hand still on his face, William brought Thomas back up to face him. "But perhaps that's why you're here. Perhaps we're both here, now and together, because we need to fix ourselves. I think I finally understand some things," he grinned, feeling more like Bilbo Baggins at the height of his adventures than he ever had in this life. "Biggest of which is that you were an idiot back then."

Thomas met his eyes, still unable to speak.

"As was I. I should have insisted on getting closer to you. You should have listened to me more, but I should have pulled you aside and given you my opinion more often." William traced a vein in Thomas's wrists, their hands still tangled together. He let his words sink into the former Dwarf King's head, then he pulled his hand away and pressed his lips in the vacated spot.

The kiss was chaste at the same time as it was boiling. It felt like a circuit was connecting between their bodies, electrifying their nerves.

William pulled Thomas up onto the bed, lining up their hips as the kiss continued. Eventually, William's hands ended up tangled in Thomas's hair, pulling out the ponytail and allowing the elastic to fly off in some random direction.

"I..." Thomas panted as he broke the kiss, " Love you."

Pausing in the soft kisses he was planting on Thomas's neck, William smiled and nuzzled his jaw. "Love you too."

 

XxXxX

 

Thomas woke up with his arms full of pliant, warm, and soft William.

The man was tucked under his chin, one of Thomas's hands threaded through his hair and clenching in a way that would probably be painful to William when he woke up. Loosening his hand a little, he sat slightly up to look at the marks he had left on the shorter man's neck and shoulders.

Just below the hairline he saw a set of teeth marks.

William shifted, tensing up for a moment as he stretched, then curling back up against Thomas. "Good morning."

Thomas smiled, tracing the shell of William's ear. "Morning."

"What's got you awake right now?" William braced his elbows on the bed, meeting Thomas's eyes. "I could tell you were awake before I actually woke up. Seemed a little odd, but we've never been exactly normal."

"I'm thinking about how much of an idiot I was back then, never actually trying to keep you." Thomas sat up all the way, holding William against him as he scooted back to lean against the headboard. "And that you're probably going to hate me once you get the chance to look in a mirror."

An eyebrow raised, William frowned. "How about you explain before I go tottering off to look in a mirror."

"I left marks on your neck..." Thomas cleared his throat, cheeks turning a soft red color. "And other places." He reached out and traced the bite mark, finger barely touching William's skin. "I also left this."

William shuddered, eyes sliding closed as he leaned up into the soft touch. "It's recognizable as a sex mark, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so." Thomas shrugged. "I apologize for it being recognizable, but not for leaving it there. You also have some beard burn..."

Laughing, William covered his eyes, shaking his head. "Don't care. I like the marks."

Thomas leaned forward and kissed him, one hand going low to support the former Hobbit underneath his ample backside, the other curling back into his hair.

Groaning, William pressed upwards, wrapping his legs around Thomas's waist. The movement brought them together, both men breathing each other's air.

"I have it set up with my nephews..." Thomas ran his tongue over the marks that were already on William's neck. "They know I'm here. I think they'll- fuck - leave us alone for a while."

"Good. Work can wait." William rolled them over, tugging Thomas back on top. "Don't care right now."

"Missed you, My Burglar." Thomas nipped at his neck, soothing the bite with his tongue immediately after. "Bilbo..."

"My King, My Thorin..." William arched up into him, tugging his hair. 

 

Faran and Kaden had indeed left them alone, with the exception of the twenty-nine texts they had sent him.

Only one of the texts had been from Demetrius, and that was asking if he would be alright with meeting up later in the week, for lunch or something. The wording hadn't seemed quite like his cousin, which made Thomas frown.

"Something wrong?"

Thomas turned to William and held out the phone, still frowning. "Demetrius is never this polite when sending a text. There's the word 'please' in there. Unless it's his brother. Even then, it's still not a guarentee of politeness."

"Has he met anyone recently?" William was rooting around in his pantry, humming quietly along with the radio on the windowsill. 

"Could it be that they've changed him in any way?"

"I..." Thomas paused, making a face. "I completely forgot in the wake of you seeming to nearly die. He got a boyfriend recently, man by the name of Oliver Ritter. His older brother has met him, but the rest of us haven't."

William stopped humming, poking his head out of the pantry, "Oliver Ritter?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Fairly certain."

With a sigh, William set down the things he had grabbed, snatching the notepad off the counter where it had been sitting next to the phone. "Look at the two names together. If you ignore a lot of the letters..."

He wrote out the name, scratching out letters until it left three behind.

"If you ignore the rest of Oliver, except for the 'O', and then ignore everything in Ritter after the 'Ri', you get Ori." William smiled and shrugged as he handed the notepad to Thomas. "Is Demetrius anyone?"

"I'm fairly certain that Demetrius is Dwalin. His full name is..." Thomas's brow furrowed as he scribbled something out on the pad, scratching things out just a second later. "His full name is Demetrius Wallingford Ingles. His older brother is Bartholemew Lester Ingles."

"Wait," William shook his head like he was trying to clear something out. "Does that mean we know where Balin and Dwalin are?"

"I believe so."

"Is the lunch invitation written by Ori? And if so, does that mean that they want to discuss this with you?" William chuckled when Thomas groaned, hiding his face in his hands. 

"Would you come with me?"

William stopped chuckling, eyes wide. "You want me to...?"

"You've met my nephews. Twice now, actually..." Thomas smirked. "I want you to come meet the rest of my family. We're all still alive and well in this lifetime and I want you to meet them."

Tucking some of his hair back behind his ear, William smiled. "I think I can do that."

Thomas leaned forward and kissed him, tugging the hair free again. 

 

XxXxX

 

It was to the sound of his phone ringing that William shot up out of bed, nearly tumbling to the floor. 

With a bleary glance at the clock, he groaned and grabbed for the thing, snarling at it before he hit the accept button. Holding it to his ear like it was a dead thing that he really didn't want to be touching, he sighed. 

"Yes?"

"May I speak with William Bernherdt?"

Sitting up straighter, he rubbed at his eyes, frowning. "You are speaking to him. Who is this?" He yanked at his hair in an attempt to get it to straighten back out from the obnoxious curls he could still remember, his frown deepening.

"I'm Officer Davison. Are you the uncle of a boy named Frode Bernherdt?"

William suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. His heart felt like it had gone straight past plummeting and on into flying out the bottom of his feet.

"Yes, he's my nephew." he swallowed nervously, fighting to do so around the lump in his throat. "My older brother's child."

"Can you come down to the station please?"

"What's happening?" William strode across the room, grabbing the handles of his dresser and pressing the phone into his shoulder with his cheek. "What's happened?"

"There's been an accident."

William paled, then nodded. "I'll be there as soon as I can be."

He hung up, rushing to get dressed.

 

At the police station, once he provided proof that he was who he said he was, William was led into a badly lit room. Sitting at the table with a styrofoam cup in his hands and his knees curled up to his chest, was his nephew.  
"Frode?"

The boy looked up, bright blue eyes wide and staring a little dazedly at his uncle. "Hi." he shivered, looking back down at his cup. When he didn't move again, William walked forward and kneeled next to him, reaching a hand out and resting it on his nephews wrist.

Across the boy's cheek was a bandage, about the length and width of his hand. The white gauze stretched from the lower half of his cheek to meet the collar of his shirt, the material splattered with a few dots of blood. Frode wasn't talking, so William turned to the officer who had escorted him in. 

"What happened?"

The officer shifted uncomfortably, the motioned for him to follow. William stood again, brushing some of Frode's hair out of his eyes.

 

When they were outside of the room, the officer sighed and wouldn't meet his eyes. "His parents were killed today, and according to the preliminary report, he could have died as well. Someone broke into their house." he cleared his throat. "Your nephew keeps insisting that it was a creature rather than a person. The medics have checked him over, but he seems to be fine now. They stopped the bleeding, but now he's just sitting there."

"My brother and his wife are dead?" William's stomach lurched, feeling like it was going to empty itself onto the other man's shiny shoes. "They're..."

"I'm sorry." the officer reached a hand out as if to pat his shoulder, then seemed to re-think the idea. The movement brought his badge to William's attention, the shiny rectangle baring the name 'Kearney'. "They were passed when the officers arrived on the scene. The man who called in the responding unit had to be taken to the hospital due to the severity of his injuries. He's probably the reason that your nephew lived."

William nodded, barely hearing him, leaning his back against the wall and sliding down, a hand clamped over his mouth.

Officer Kearney knelt down next to him, a hand around his wrist. "Hey. I know it probably feels better to have your hand there, but trust me, it's better to move it and get some deep breaths in, alright?"

Feeling sick, William pulled his hand away, vision going watery.

"Do you want to go in and sit with your nephew? You'll be here for a while and it might be good to have some familiar faces."

With a lurching motion, William started to stand up, Kearney's hand on his shoulder in support. With a little help, William sat in the chair next to Frode, nodding again, absentmindedly when the officer asked him if he wanted coffee.

Just like that, they were alone in the room.

"I was getting ready for school." Frode whispered, voice catching. "Mom and dad were downstairs, making breakfasts and getting ready for work and mom has that-" he broke off in a harsh sob. "-Had that job that starts at like noon so she was up at like four, making pancakes." He wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, then shook his head. "I'm not lying about the creature."

"I never said you were, my boy." William swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"It was grey skinned and it smelled horrible." Frode shook his head. "It smelled like death, and it had sharp teeth. There were only a few of them, but they looked like knives in the thing's mouth."

Something struck in William's memory, something that had been said to him once when he had been Bilbo.

_'Right Precious! But we...We only has nine!'_

He shuddered, eyes closing for a moment. "I think you're coming home with me...Your grandparents aren't around anymore, they moved to New Zealand years ago. Unless you would prefer to go live with them? I could arrange that, I suppose."

"Can I stay with you?"

William nodded, voice breaking when he tried to answer out loud. "If...If you want to." he cleared his throat, then turned to face the teenager. "You still have free reign of the guest bedroom in my house."

"I don't want to leave." Frode muttered. "I don't want to have to say goodbye to my friends."

"Are you still friends with..." William made a face, searching for the name in his head. "Sam? I think it was."

"He's my best friend." 

They sat silently for a minute before Frode almost bolted out of his seat. 

"Frode?"

"The man who saved me!" his eyes were back to being wide, "He just popped up out of nowhere, already bloody and bruising. I didn't even think it was weird at the time, but he just kind of..." Frode shrugged helplessly, waving his hands. "Appeared."

William tilted his head. "Frode, what did he look like?"

"Black hair. His eyes were kind of swelling, so I couldn't really tell, and he was covered in scratches like mine." he gestured to the bandage on his cheek. "He was wearing a really torn up red jacket, and he was kind of clutching at his ribs like it hurt to let them move."

"I know who that is." William winced at the description. If Smaug had been nearly taken down by The Creature, what would it have down to his nephew if it had gotten the chance?

 

XxXxX

 

When Thomas got off work and called William, all he had been told was that he was at the police station.

It didn't make him feel any better to hear that after the news had been tossing about the name Bernherdt all day, not a single word about gender or age after that, not until the most recent report. Which, of course, he'd only been able to watch once he had gotten home and his nephews had pulled him down onto the couch to stop his pacing.

As far as he knew, William was alright, but he wouldn't feel entirely better until he had his -no-longer-a-hobbit back in his arms.

When he felt that enough time had passed, he grabbed his coat and his keys, dragging both of his nephews out to the car and driving as fast as he could without actually speeding. 

William's house was quiet from the outside.

Knocking on the door, Faran and Kaden behind him, he waited impatiently. Foot tapping, about to knock again when the door opened, Thomas nearly fell flat on his face.

On the doorstep stood a teenage boy, about fourteen years old if he had to guess, floppy black curls framing wide and bright blue eyes.

"Who are you?"

Thomas tried for a reassuring smile, but knew it had probably failed. "I'm Thomas Oberlin. I'm looking for William Bernherdt. Is he here?"

"Just a second." instead of turning and calling out, the boy backed away from the door and peered around a corner, keeping an eye on Thomas. "Uncle? There's someone named Thomas here to see you."

William came around the corner a few seconds after the boy announced that, wiping his hands on a dish towel that he slung over his shoulder. He looked mostly alright, except for the pallor of his skin and the hollow look in his eyes.

With a step forward, Thomas had a hand on William's shoulder, reaching to brush his thumb over the edge of collarbone that was slightly showing. "You're alright? I heard your last name on the news."

"It wasn't me." William leaned into his hand, eyes drifting closed. "It was my brother and his wife."  
Beckoning Faran and Kaden to close the door, Thomas steered William back to the kitchen, pulling a chair out for him and sitting on the floor at his feet. With one hand still on William, drifting up to his face, he scooped the other man's heels onto his knees, meeting his eyes.

"What happened?"

William shivered, then curled over his own knees. "The thing that grabbed me. The Creature that seems to follow us through every life."

"It..."

"The damn Creature tore his parents apart. From what the police reports are saying, It nearly killed Smaug as well." William cast his gaze towards the other room where Faran and Kaden were distracting Frode. "It went after him as well. It killed my brother, my sister-in-law, and it nearly killed my nephew."

His last words coming out as a sob, William pressed his face into Thomas's shoulder, tears falling fast. 

Thomas wrapped both of his arms around his lover. "My halfling, I will keep you safe."

"Heh..." William poked his ribs. "I am not half of anything."

"I consider you to be half of me." Thomas muttered, playing with William's hair as he kept crying.


	2. Once Upon a Time Between Us.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more connections are made, and some things are dwelled upon.

His hair was blonde when they first met after being Ori and Dwalin.

He remembers now. He was blonde and he had brown eyes and he wasn't quite him. Dwalin had been gruff and large and still a lot like himself. It had been like two pieces reconnecting, they had met as a Warrior and a Spy, working for entirely separate sides in a struggle. 

He'd been put to death for crimes against the current leader in what-the-fuck-ever place they had lived in at the time. He doesn't even remember the place, all he remembers is the face that Dwalin had made when he watched as they pushed his head through the noose. 

They'd briefly been lovers in that one.

The next time they had run into each other, he'd been a shaman in a small village. He'd been the Story Keeper of the village for his entire life, training almost from birth to record the tales of his people. In that life, Demetrius had been in the village entirely by accident.

He'd fallen off the ship that he was travelling on, and the healer had been unhappy about him being in the same room, and so had insisted on making the 'Evil Spirit' leave. 

He'd fought back. 

He hadn't wanted to let the man go, hadn't wanted to watch him be destroyed by being left out in the world unconscious and alone. So he volunteered his space to keep the man alive. He could still remember the greying hair of the man, cut into a manageable shape around his head.

The man had passed away before he had woken up, and he'd never learned his name.

The lives where they didn't meet had hurt. It had felt like something was being ripped out of his chest again and again, like he was constantly being pulled apart and away from the world. If he had to guess, he would say that Dwalin felt the same.

The lives where they had met were wonderful in some unshakable way.

Dwalin had found him a couple of times, always turning to look at him in the way that made him feel like they were the only ones to exist. It didn't matter if he were a dwarf or a human, male or female, it never mattered. He always felt like something that was missing was returned to him when they met.

As Oliver and Demetrius, he felt that feeling again.

It wasn't a matter of obsession, it was a matter of finding the right person again.

When he was younger, Oliver had wondered if he would ever find a person who loved him. He had looked at the magazines that were generally created for teenage girls, he'd taken the quizzes, he poured his time into looking for answers besides dating everyone. The idea of dating random people that he might feel something for eventually had never sat well with him.

He'd had sex, of course. 

Just because some part of him was waiting for the fairytale didn't mean that he was going to abstain entirely. Having been a teenager, he could testify to the maddening rush of hormones and urges. They had felt wrong, their lips tasting like ashes when he kissed them. To hold onto them had just been weird, and never comfortable.

Oliver was broken out of his thoughts by Demetrius resting a hand on his hip, followed by a kiss to his cheek.

"Mornin'." he muttered, sipping at his coffee while trying to pull his uniform on.

With a goofy grin, Oliver sat up and leaned against his shoulder, nuzzling the slightly rough fabric. "Morning. Wish you could spend more time off work. I understand why you can't, but I wish you could."

"Wish I could too. Don't like leavin' yeh here." Demetrius growled when his phone buzzed, fumbling through his pants pocket for it. When he managed to get the text up, he grunted at the number it was from. "Thomas's up then..."

"What's he saying? Anything about meeting up?"

Demetrius shrugged, reading the actual text. With each word that he read, his face grew a bit more slack until his jaw was hanging slightly. Quietly, he set his coffee mug on the bedside table, handing the phone to Oliver before standing up and running his hands over his head.

"Shit."

Confused, Oliver read the text, eyes going wide when he understood. "I would have to agree there. How the hell did that thing get away from Smaug? How did it manage to hurt him that badly?"

"Not ta mention it killed some a' William's family." Demetrius pressed his fingers into his eyes, sighing. "William, who I believe is Bilbo. Which means that this affects Thomas as well because those two seem to be as connected as us, even if their lives didn't happen the same way."

"Their story ended earlier than ours. Thorin, if it is actually him, died in the battle that got us Erebor back." Oliver grimaced, absently rolling the tips of his fingers in the hem of the overly large shirt that he was wearing. It had been pilfered from Demetrius wardrobe, a relic from his years in college. "Bilbo's life ended after mine did, I don't know what happened."

"Yeh died by the time he and I ran inta' each other again." Demetrius cleared his throat, eyes focused on his feet. "He had a nephew, who was ferryin' a ring a' some sort. There was a council, Gloin was part a' the discussion."

"Hey." Oliver stretched until he was almost level with Demetrius, knees perched on the edge of the bed. "We're together here and now. I'm not leaving you, not unless you ask it of me. I waited hundreds of years for you to come back to me. You kind of outlived me, and I don't think either of us is willing to be separated again."

Demetrius shook his head again, trailing his fingers along Oliver's jaws. Without saying a word, he leaned forward and kissed him softly, dragging his hands through the red hair that was trailing across Oliver's shoulders.

"I never wanted ta leave yeh. We found out from Gandalf that you were in Balin's tomb. You wrote down everythin' that happened there and the discovery of yehr journal..." Demetrius cleared his throat, hands drifting down to Oliver's waist.

"And I'm here and you're here." Oliver murmured. "I will do everything in my power to keep it that way."

 

XxXxX

 

It was with a groan that Demetrius dragged a hand over his head.

It had been a long day, and of course everyone had seemed to just want to get in his way the more he wanted to get out the door and back to Ori. 

And so, of course, a man sitting in the middle of the road should have been expected.

Turning off engine of his car, which he had just gotten back from the shop, he unbuckled and dragged himself out of his seat. 

The man in the road didn't even move, and since it was a one lane road he couldn't just drive past. With a muttered curse, he walked over to him, nearly putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Please don't." the man murmured, curling his hands protectively around whatever it was that he was holding. "There's a squirrel on my shoulder, and I don't want you to hurt her."

"What are yeh holdin' then?"

The man looked up at him, and Demetrius couldn't breathe.

In front of him, sitting in the middle of a dark one lane road, was someone who looked exactly like Radagast.

"It's just a wee little baby bird...Poor thing's nest was torn up by the windstorm, the parents are dead. It's the only one left from the brood."

Demetrius crouched down next to him, frowning. "Why are yeh sittin' in the road though?"

"It was where I was walking across when the wolf pup trotted out of the woods. It sounded so sad, and it was limping. I couldn't just leave it there." The Radagast-look-a-like shrugged with one shoulder. "Of course, when I kneeled down to see to it, the squirrel jumped onto my shoulder and fell asleep. S'why she hasn't run away from the loud talking."

"Alright then." Demetrius sighed. "Right."

He stood, then walked back over to his car and pulled out his cellphone. With another sigh, he dialled Oliver's number, then waited. 

When his boyfriend picked up, he grumbled out, "Yeh told me yeh found Gandalf, right?"

 

It took about half an hour for everyone to arrive, Ori in the passenger seat of Gandalf's car.

"And ain't that jus' a weird concept..." Demetrius muttered, "Gandalf with a car."

Oliver jumped out of the car almost before it stopped, a grin as his face as he ran over and wrapped his arms around Demetriu's neck, lifting himself up onto his toes and kissing him softly. "Hey."

They turned, in one movement and together, to watch as Gandalf picked his way carefully across the lumpy concrete. The moment he was next to almost-surely-Radagast, the man looked up and offered his cupped hands to him.

"Hello Gandalf." he giggled. "I still remember you."

Gandalf smiled and shrugged, kneeling next to him. "You are not quite yourself anymore, are you, my old friend?"

"I'm Roger, this time." Radagast's giggles grew louder, turning into laughter. "He caught up to me, tried to trap me in a crystal. It went wrong. I escaped, in a way."

"Your soul was stripped of some things." Gandalf muttered, a hand on Roger's temple. His thumb ran soothingly down the other man's cheek, circling his chin slowly. Curling his knuckles so that they touched Radagast's cheek, he turned to Demetrius. "How did you find him?"

"He was in the street." Demetrius ran a hand over his head. "I nearly ran over him."

Pursing his lips, Gandalf turned back to the other. "You shouldn't be sitting in the road." he chided softly. "You could be killed."

He helped him up slowly, a hand on Roger's lower back as he got his to his feet.

"Can you catch a ride back with Dwalin, Ori?" Gandalf looked between the two. "I would like to get him settled without too much fuss."

"I can." Ori nodded, looking in return at the two men who seemed to be drawing closer to each other with every word that was spoken. "I was hoping to bug him into letting me stay tonight, anyways, even if it meant me travelling across the city one way or another at midnight."

With a nod and a smile, he turns to Radagast, already trying to convince him to let the animals go, with the exception of possibly the bird.

They're in the car, a comfortable silence between them when Demetrius turns to Oliver and asks, a grin on his face, cocking an eyebrow, "Even if yeh had to travel across the city at midnight?"

The blush that explodes across Ori's face is worth the smug and slightly silly feeling growing in his chest.

"Hush you." Oliver whispers, a goofy grin stretching his face.

 

XxXxX

 

It had been a quiet day in the library when Oliver notices it.

The man he had pegged as Bilbo Baggins keeps staring at him. Glancing up from his books, only to tear his gaze away and focus on them single-mindedly, like he had never looked away. It's only when their eyes meet that Possibly-Bilbo shuffles awkwardly, like he's trying to hide in the chair. 

The third time they catch each other looking, Oliver shrugs and rolls his shoulders before finding his boss and taking his lunch break.

When he comes out from behind the counter, Possibly-Bilbo watches him cross the room, flinching when he leans into his space and mutters. "I think we need to talk."

Possibly-Bilbo nods and stands, tucking his books into the bag that was resting at his feet. "Yes." he whispers as he hurries, "I think we do."

And then they're walking together out the front door as fast as they can. 

 

"So..." Oliver starts, tucking his fingers into his pockets. "Who are you, and why do you keep looking at me like that?"

The man, even shorter than Ori had been, shrugs and sighs, biting at his bottom lip. "This is going to sound crazy, but I used to be named Bilbo. I once trav-"

"Traveled with a bunch of dwarves, the company of Thorin Oakenshield?"

Bilbo nods, smiling up a him. "I remember this one dwarf, named Ori. Red hair, youngest of three brothers of the family Ri."

"You found me." Oliver grins, watching the relief visibly cross the man's face. Across the street, he can see a man with long dark hair, waiting impatiently at the crosswalk. With a scowl at the light, he ran across the street and ducked around a car that had decided to speed up at the sight of a person on the road. "I'm guessing that you know where Thorin is?"

"Yes." Bilbo hides his face in his hands as his shoulders shake. "Currently, he's trying to die in traffic."

Oliver turns back to watch the man again, now hurrying across the library lawn, choking down his laughter when he nearly trips over the edge of the small pond. "So you two are back together. Has his temper gotten any better?"

"Somewhat."

That's all he got before Bilbo ran across the rest of the space between them. Thorin pauses and holds out his arms, allowing the shorter man to almost jump into them. With a former Hobbit in his arms, Thorin continues across the grass, stopping in front of Oliver.

"Was he right about you being Ori?"

Oliver shrugged at Bilbo, a grin on his face. "Almost tempted to say no, just to mess with you both. I am centuries grumpier, after all."

That had been something that Dwalin had said to him the night before. He'd pulled back and mumbled it, looking off to the side and not meeting Ori's eyes when he'd said it. Usually, that meant that he was more than a bit ashamed of being so much older and much less of a sweet personality.

Thorin frowned and hefted Bilbo higher in his arms. "Oliver, right? I remember the Ritter part."

"Ritter is the easy part, there's about six other people with that last name." Oliver scoffed. "I am very nearly insulted that you don't remember my first name after you and Demetrius dragged me home."

"It was a trying night."

"You didn't have to beat down some creepy grey creature with a book stand." Oliver laughed when Bilbo squirmed to be set down. "What's your name this time, Bilbo?"

"William Bernherdt." he muttered, jabbing his elbow softly into Thorin's side. "What he isn't saying is that your name is hard to remember because he remembers little Ori, one of the youngest dwarves on the mission to reclaim Erebor. On his way over here, he couldn't remember, even in text, what your first name was. All he could get out was Ori."

Oliver laughed, covering his mouth at the unamused look on the former King's face.

"Even after we had sat down and found your original name within your new one."

With a snort, Oliver doubled over, clutching at his sides. "Does Demetrius know you, William?

"As far as I know, he has heard of me." William made a face. "Alright. So now I know that you ARE Ori, I think I've made enough of a fool of myself today. I don't need to keep talking."

 

XxXxX

 

"So he didn' remember yehr name? Even after what happened?"

Oliver nodded, tucking his head closer against Demetrius's shoulder, the braids that the older man had put into his hair being held in his hand. One large hand was curled in his hair, the arm it was attached to was resting over Oliver's chest. 

"No." Ori shrugged, turned, then pressed a kiss to the man's hand. "It's alright though. That night was confusing."

"It doesn' seem fair." Dwalin muttered.

Ori turned over, so that they were lying chest to chest. "Dwalin. Look at me."

When the older man didn't, Ori reached up and turned his face for him. "When he was Thorin, his only interest in me was that I was willing to fight at his side to return to a home I had never seen. When he was Thorin, he was a bit more likely to be concentrating on the giant dragon. I am perfectly content with him having to get to know me and try to remember my name this time, because the last time that we met," he took a deep breath, "I wasn't really anywhere on his radar. You were, and still are, related to him in some way. He doesn't know me, beyond the loyalty I showed him back then, and even that is not anything to get to know a person on."

"I still want ta know how he manages to forget yeh." Dwalin muttered.

Ori rolled his eyes. "Your accent is getting thicker. It does that when you're annoyed. It's sweet."

Dwalin dragged him upwards, hands pressing into his hips. "Yeh ain't answerin' the topic."

"Because it doesn't really matter to me." Ori whispered, propping himself up on his elbows. "I've got you, and that's all that I really care about. You still remember me, with barely a pause in the flow of the memories from one life to the next."

They sat there, silently and curled close, Ori tucked back into the spot beneath Dwalin's chin.

"Did it look like Gandalf and Radagast were closer than they used to be?"

Dwalin coughed, his laughter coming out as a huff of air. "I wasn' gonna say it."

"Seriously, it seemed like they were all handsy and touchy and like Gandalf was going to kiss him for being there, for being brilliantly there when there was no way that he should have been." Ori grinned.

"Kind of how I felt when we figured it out." Dwalin wrapped Ori's hair around his fingers again. "Jus' so brillian' ta have yeh back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori and Dwalin were being difficult these last couple of weeks. I'm trying to post a chapter every Thursday, which is when I have wifi access, but when the characters are difficult, it gets harder to do.


	3. Flee Into The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise's family confronts Nicholas about his intentions.
> 
> And then everything goes wrong.

It was awkward to be confronted by his boyfriend's brother and cousin.

Blaise was standing back, Buckley and Byron pushing Nicholas into a corner and glaring at him. If he had been given a choice, he would have asked them to come over or to meet someplace where they couldn't hide the body if they got angry with him for some reason. 

Buckley sighed, arms crossed over his considerable stomach, frowning when Byron reached slowly for the scissors in his apron. 

"We're not blaming you fer anythin'." he reached over and took the scissors from his cousin, tucking them into his own pocket. "You just didn' introduce yerself before you took him out."

Nicholas winced, backing away from Byron as much as he could, curling even further into the corner. "I am sorry about that. I just..."

"I actually encouraged him to go up to you the firs' time." Buckley smiled, "You-"

He was interrupted by Blaise leaning forward and grabbing Nicholas's hand, pulling him out past the irritated family members and brushing off his shoulders before kissing him softly. "Can you stop intimidating my boyfriend?"

Muttering something quietly, Byron glared, fists clenched at his sides.

"You can't...You remember that?" Blaise raised an eyebrow at his cousin, frowning. "How come you never said? You remember him as Nori, and you never thought to mention that?"

Byron suddenly looked sheepish, rubbing at the back of his head as he muttered something else.

With a groan, Blaise rubbed at his eyes before running a hand through his hair. "You...You're my cousin, and I love you because you're family, but sometimes I really hate you. Just because you remember him as Nori doesn't mean that he's the same now.   
Actually, he's a little less harried and strange because in this life, here and now, we're settled down and not having to worry about a dragon."

"We haven't seen him in a while, that's the only worry." Nicholas muttered.

Buckley blinked, then shook his head. "What?"

"Blaise, do you want me to explain to your brother?" Nicholas grimaced, gesturing out the door. "He's apparently the only one without a clue as to what is happening."

"Yes please." Blaise pressed a kiss to his cheek, then turned back around to face his cousin.

"C'mon." Nicholas muttered, waving Buckley out the door. "You need to know what's happening. I don't think that we have time to let you remember on your own. Smaug isn't reappearing, and the creature that he warned me about sounded dangerous. Even with the vague information he gave me."

 

Settling at one of the small tables in the cafe, he sighed and dropped his head down to rest on his arm. 

Buckley gave him a look, sitting across from him and pursing his lips. "If I've been having dreams that sound a lot like what you're talking about, does that have anything to do with this?"

"It seems to come back at different speeds for everyone, in different ways." Nicholas sat up, hands reaching behind himself to grab the back of the chair. "Some of us have dreams about it until our conscious mind gets a clue, some of us need to be handed a physical object."

"The dragon Smaug is a nightmare I've had since I was small. I dreamt about a small figure going against an impossibly large dragon, sword in hand that was nothin' more than a toothpick against such a creature." Buckley stared at his hands, curling them into the edge of his apron. "I also used to dream about sitting around a fire and speaking with companions. Singin', cookin', hopin' with them."

"That's the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Your brother was Bofur, I was Nori. I think you were Bombur." Nicholas tugged at one of his own braids, a crooked smile on his face. "Not sure, but I think your cousin might be-"

"Bifur." Buckley muttered, closing his eyes as he switched to tangling his fingers in his beard. "Our cousin was Bifur. Bofur, Bombur, Bifur."

Nodding, Nicholas patted his arm. "About your brother...I have honorable intentions, I promise you. He was mine back then, all I want is for him to be mine now."

"You two were..." Buckley frowned, trying to remember. "I want to say married, but that doesn't sound quite right."

"It's not, but it's close enou-" Nicholas broke off, looking at the door. Outside the glass was a crouched creature, long fingers pressed to the window as it looked in at them. It's eyes were narrowed, the few sharp teeth it had bared in a silent growl.

At Buckley's sharp intake of breath, Nicholas turned back to him and stood up slowly. "Buckley, just move slowly. We're going back to the room where Blaise and Byron are. When we get there, you're going to find me a phone."

Buckley stood as slowly as he could, watching as the creature raised it's other hand, clenched around something, and started banging on the glass. Spiderweb cracks were forming outwards from where it was hitting, the glass actually concaving.

Nicholas pulled Buckley completely upright. "Screw slowly, run!"

With that, they both took off in the direction of the other room, Nicholas glancing back for a second and catching a glimpse of the glow emitting from the creature's curled up fingers.

Buckley was already panting by the time they had slammed the door behind them. Without sparing a glance at him, Nicholas continued over to Blaise, a hand resting on his shoulder. "We have trouble. Like, on it's way into this area."

Before Blaise could speak, the sound of glass shattering made them all freeze and look towards the door. 

"Byron." Blaise murmured. "Can you help Buckley hold the door?"

Nodding, Byron threw his weight against it even as something rammed into it from the other side. Growling, he shoved his shoulder into it, digging his feet into the tile and bracing himself against heavy shelf next to the door. 

"Buckley? Phone." Nicholas looked around, then nodded when Buckley gestured to the drawer of the desk. 

"Don't have a landline. Seemed like a bad idea." 

On the other side of the door, scratching and scrabbling had replaced the thumping sound of the creature ramming into the door.

"Might have been a wiser choice than you could have ever imagined." Nicholas yanked open the drawer, fumbling for a second before he retrieved it and dropped it into his pocket. 

"C'mon..." he licked his lips, frowning down at the desk. "How much does this desk weigh?"

Buckley grunted at the thumping started up again. "It takes about three people to move it, does that help any?"

"That'll do!" Blaise started pushing on one corner, joined quickly by Nicholas. When Buckley nodded, Byron rushed over to help them. Soon enough, they had the desk against the door, Buckley leaping over it with a speed none of them had expected from him.

"Does this feel vaguely zombie apocalypse to anyone else?" Blaise muttered, hand gripping Nicholas's tightly.

"Yes." Nicholas and Buckley answered. With that, Nicholas pulled the phone from his pocket, dialling a number quickly.

"Who are you calling?"

Nicholas gave him a strained grin. "I'm calling my little brother. Ori is Oliver, and he might not be too much of a fighter, but if I tell him what's happening, then he'll tell our older brother, and he'll bring Demetrius. Who, you know, used to be Dwalin. Scariest warrior I've met."

"If nothing else," Blaise sighed, resting his head against Nicholas's shoulder. "They'll bring backup and find a way to get us out of here?"

"That's what I'm thinking."

Byron looked between the two, head cocked to the side, muttering again. When Nicholas looked confused, Blaise whispered something in his ear.

"No, no no, Smaug hasn't been in contact for a while now. A week has passed, he texted me the day he called me here and said that he would contact me. He hasn't, and there's probably a reason for it." Nicholas's face brightened. "Hi Oliver! Kind of need some help. There's something attacking us." 

He listened for a moment, then nodded. "I didn't really get to see what color it was, but it had sharp teeth, a nasty temper, and long fingers. It broke the front window of the Ur family's cafe, and we're locked in the office. We've got a bit of a zombie survivor situation going on. Desk against the door, everyone more than a bit rattled."

Another moment passed. "Yeah, it would be great if you could be here and getting our asses out. If nothing else, distract it, let us out, then we run like hell. Or knock it- You hit it with a book-stand?"

Blaise laughed, biting his knuckles to try and make it quieter. He stopped laughing when the door made a loud cracking noise.

"Please hurry." Nicholas hung up and handed the phone to Buckley. "Thanks."

 

XxXxX

 

It was the howling outside the door that made them move the desk and look out. 

Blaise leaned out the door cautiously, jaw dropping as he took in the scene in front of him. Oliver stood there with a baseball bat, a glare twisting his face as he changed his stance to follow the creature around the room.

"Hateful..." it hissed, picking it's way through the broken glass on the floor. "Stupid hateful dwarveses..."

With a snarl, Nicholas stepped out of the room, approaching quietly as he watched his little brother swing the bat at the creature's fingers when it got too close. It still had one hand clenched around something, causing a bit of a stagger as it moved. 

Carefully, he picked up the rolling pin he had spotted on the counter as he passed it. 

Oliver looked at him briefly, smiling a little when he spotted the rolling pin. "Not quite a dwarf anymore. Mind explaining who or what you are?"

The creature howled again, rushing at him.

Out of nowhere, the broad-shouldered shape of Demetrius came rushing at it, slamming it out of the way. It skidded across the floor and hit the wall, still clutching whatever it was holding. Demetrius growled, still breathing fast, a hand on Oliver's waist. 

Nicholas took the pause as a moment to beckon Blaise out of the office, waiting until they were holding hands before he stepped carefully over the glass shards that had been spread even further from the window. His arm around Blaise's waist, the rolling pin in his other hand, he kept a watchful eye on the creature. 

"What is that thing?"

Oliver grinned, a little breathless as he answered. "Don't know. I think Smaug had an idea, but it managed to beat him bloody and put him in the hospital. From there, it killed Bilbo's nephew's parents while they were getting ready for work."

The creature snarled at them from the wall, tangled in the chairs that had been thrown out of the way. "Stupid!" it hacked out the word, biting off the end. 

"What is it holding?" Blaise tilted his head, watching as it tried to escape the broken wooden chairs. "It's glowing."

Demetrius frowned, squinting as he leaned forward to have a look at it, not daring to get closer. "That looks like..."

He straightened up quickly, already dragging Oliver towards the door, gesturing for Nicholas and Blaise to do the same. "If yehr are in here, Yeh'd best come out here!" he called, prompting Buckley and Byron to come around the corner. 

Buckley gave a low moan of horror at the state of his cafe. With a soft shove at his cousin's shoulder, Byron motioned for him to keep moving. 

"Dwalin?" Oliver asked softly, a hand on the larger man's shoulder, "What's wrong?"

Demetrius paused for half a second, watching as the creature started splintering the wood it was trapped in. "It looks like the Arkenstone."

A look of terror shared among the group, they all fled out the broken window, not even bothering with the still-locked door.

 

About halfway to Oliver's house, they all stopped for a second to breathe.

Oliver spoke first, panting from how fast they had been moving. "So you're telling me that the creature that is already strong enough to make Smaug comatose, old enough to be completely insane, and pissed off enough to remember old grudges, has the Arkenstone?"

"It might be even worse than that." Demetrius grimaced, a hand reaching out to stroke Oliver's braids, as if he were checking to make sure they were still there. "Somethin' Thomas said."

"What did he-" Nicholas broke off, looking at his little brother. "Oliver?"

A hand over his mouth, Oliver looked like he was going to be sick. "Thomas is Thorin, first off. But he kind of implied that the Arkenstone was the cause of this. He's been having these weird dreams, and apparently Smaug mentioned something about it before he was put in the hospital." 

"Oh! Great!" Nicholas's laugh was nervous sounding, closer to a quiet shriek than laughter. "So we've got an immortal creature that's pissed off at us for some reason, older than all of us except the person it put in the hospital, and it has the Arkenstone. Did I mention that the person it put in the hospital is a dragon that used to occupy our original home?"

Blaise leaned into him, nose pressed into his cheek, whispering something in his ear. Tugging on Nicholas's braids, he kissed his shoulder. "Calm down Nori."

"I..." Nicholas sighed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When his eyes opened again, he seemed much more sane. "I don't think there's any outcome of this that ends well."

"Are you all alright?"

They all turned to see who had spoken, some of them relaxing when they spotted Thomas and William, followed shortly by Roger and Gandalf. 

"We're alright." Buckley muttered, quickly looking over his brother and cousin before he checked on everyone else. "They seem to be fine too."

"Thomas." Demetrius nodded, sighing in relief. "Where's the demon boys?"

"I told them to stay home, and under no circumstance leave Frode alone." He grinned when William threaded his fingers through his, kissing the knuckles. "I think from here we need to go somewhere else."

"My house seems like the only one big enough to put everyone up for the night." Oliver volunteered, frowning. "Or are we picking up other people?"

"I think we need Donald and everyone." Nicholas told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "He's at home and he doesn't know what's happening."

"William and I are going back to his home, to stay there with Kaden and Faran." Thomas looked at Demetrius, frowning. "Can you retrieve your brother?"

"He's likely at Oisin's house right now." Demetrius looked at Oliver. "Ori and I can grab him, Oisin, Gildas, and Donald. My car has room fer them."

Oliver nodded. "I...Nicholas?"

"Is my bike still at your house?" Nicholas returned, "I tuned it up in your yard a couple of days ago. You have more space."

"It's still there." Oliver assured him. "Alright, so you're going with Blaise, I'm going with Demetrius." he turned to Gandalf, not even waiting for Nicholas to nod. "Is there enough room in your van for the rest of us?"

Gandalf did a quick count, still not saying anything. "I have room for myself, Roger, and about six others." 

"Right." William licked his lips, looking nervously behind them. "Can we ride with you?"

"Yes."

Thomas nodded, "I would suggest grabbing a bag of clothing, enough for at least two days. We're going to be hiding out in William's home for the time being."

William cracked a grin. "Again."

Without another word, they split up, each other them heading towards their assigned vehicles with worried glances at each other.

 

When they reached Oliver's house, Nicholas stopped just short of his bike, turning and resting his hands on the sides of Blaise's head. Pressing their foreheads together, he sighed. "We'll be okay. Even if it's the last thing I make sure of, we'll be just fine."

"If it's the last thing that you make sure of, I'm not sure that's fine." Blaise whispered, shaking slightly. "You're still kind of in touch with being a fighter of some kind or another. You've been in bar brawls."

"You haven't been, I know." Nicholas stroked his cheeks, thumbs smoothing down his mustache. "I'll make sure that you can fight if you need to. You've kept your nose far too clean for being a member of Thorin's company."

"I didn't want to fight back then, I don't want to fight now." Blaise murmured, raising his arms to wrap around Nicholas's shoulders. "I'm a baker, a coffee maker, and a whittler. Nothing in there that counts as fighting."

"You use knives on a daily basis. You carve wood into interesting shapes and toys." Nicholas grinned. "That's the most badass thing I can think of."

Blaise laughed, a smile growing as he thought about it. 

With a tug on Blaise's braid, Nicholas turned to his bike and pulled out the two helmets that he kept in the saddlebags, plopping one down on Blaise's head. "This is Oliver's helmet when he catches a ride with me, it should fit you well enough for now. Gonna have to get you one of your own."

"Ah, you're sweet." Blaise teased from underneath the visor of the helmet.

 

XxXxX

 

Nicholas watched as William bustled about his own home, making to pass by Thomas on his way into the kitchen. 

Thomas, however, reached an arm out and snagged the former hobbit around the waist, dragging him into his lap. With William held still, Bartholemew stood and continued the trip to retrieve various drinks for everyone. The room was barely contained chaos, everyone talking to everyone else, Kaden and Faran keeping Frode amused. For the most part, he looked to be enjoying the attention, occasionally interrupted by Gildas leaning over and saying something to the youngest of the three.

William had smiled when Gildas walked through the door, identifying him as the officer who had been there when he'd had to retrieve Frode from the police station.

Watching as Oisin stood and followed Bartholemew, Nicholas tightened his grip on Blaise as he leaned further back into the   
armchair. Blaise was currently sitting on his lap, angled slightly so that he could talk to his cousin and brother.

"So this is who you've decided to date, Nicholas." 

Wincing, Nicholas peered out from his hiding spot behind Blaise's shoulder. Standing next to the chair, hands on his hips and a frown on his face, was Donald.

"His name is Blaise." Nicholas offered. "He's a baker in his brother's cafe. He also makes coffee."

Oisin smiled as he passed by them, grabbing both Blaise and Buckley on his way back to the kitchen, enlisting their help in making drinks and food for the crowd. 

Nicholas whimpered at the loss of his boyfriend. 

Sighing, Donald sat himself down on Buckley's vacated seat, leaning over the arm and resting his chin in his hand. "You should have mentioned this. I would have loved to meet him. He seems nice."

"He is nice." Nicholas murmured, self-consciously tucking a braid behind his ear. "Nicer than me by a lot. He's sweet."

"He works with his family?" Donald asked.

Nodding, Nicholas shrugged. "He works with his older brother and their cousin. Byron-" he pointed to where the man sat behind Donald, watching as his cousins distributed drinks. "-Is right there. He's the oldest of the three, and very defensive when it comes to his small family. Much like you."

"Three remaining members, the oldest mother-henning?" Donald smirked, accepting the tea that Oliver offered him before he darted off to stay at Demetrius's side. "Sounds familiar enough."

"He's a good person." Nicholas tried, biting his lip. "I just want him. I want him with me, and he makes me feel more like a nice guy."

Donald took a sip of his tea, "Do you love him?"

"I do." he whispered, hands clenching together. "I've loved him for as long as I've known him."

"So I was right." Donald nodded, "He is Bofur."

Nicholas's head snapped up, turning to his brother. "You knew?"

"I know." Donald grinned. "I'm the oldest of us three. I was waiting for you two to remember. It's part of why I trust Oliver with Demetrius. That's Dwalin. He made a good husband for Ori, why can't he make a good one for Oliver?"

Stuttering, Nicholas tugged at his braids, bringing his other hand up to rub at the small tattoo on his elbow. "Did Bofur make a good one for me, in your opinion?"

"When you were Nori," Donald reached forward and held his chin, meeting his eyes, "I could think of no one better. As Nicholas, here and now, I can still not think of anyone better suited to you."

With a serene smile, Donald stood and walked away, humming as he went. When Kaden barreled across his path, he simply lifted his teacup and saucer above the boy's head, like he had expected it.

"What is it with older brothers just knowing?"

Nicholas turned to Oliver. "What?"

"Bartholemew knew as well. Demetrius and I went to see him, let me get to know him, and he simply just knew before we said anything." Oliver explained. 

"Siblings are weird."

"Yea-HEY!" 

 

XxXxX

 

Blaise watched as Bartholemew and Oisin talked quietly next to the sink.

Something was strange in the way the two interacted, like they should have been touching and they weren't. The way they were holding themselves seemed like when he and Nicholas were trying to get through a dinner without a hand on a thigh or a foot up a leg. Like they were holding themselves back from what they wanted to do.

It seemed the same until he saw Oisin turn away and Bartholemew watched his back with sadness in his eyes.

Waiting until Oisin went to join his brother in the living room, Blaise wandered over to Bartholemew quietly. "So why don't you just tell him?"

"Hmm?" the older man muttered, focusing on the drain as slightly murky water swirled down it. "What do yeh mean?"

"I mean," Blaise cleared his throat as he looked at the door. "The way you were looking at him just now. It looked like you really wanted to reach out and touch him. Or you wanted to kiss him, either way."

Bartholemew sighed, meeting Blaise's eyes. "When we were younger, he and I were..." he hesitated, then shrugged. "I would use the phrase 'Highschool Sweethearts', but no one knew that we were together. We broke up before we graduated, because his parents were Catholic and he was afraid for us."

"When were you two together?"

"We started our 'ill-advised affair' in nineteen eighty-two." Bartholemew looked away, eyes focusing on the wall before sliding down and focusing on his shoes. "I am fourty-six years old. When he broke it off, I was still seventeen. It's been decades since, and he's been married in the meantime."

Blaise frowned. "Then why not tell him?"

"His wife and he divorced years ago." Bartholemew swallowed, eyes sliding shut. "I do not think that he'd take too kindly to someone he stopped seeing trying to step back in. Now," he nodded, shoulders tense as he stood up straight and took a deep breath. "If you could be so kind, I need a hand in taking out various drinks and foods for the crowd out there."

His tone was firm, a silent warning lacing it. 

Without another word, Blaise helped him quickly. When he could manage it, he slipped away from Bartholemew and sat down next to Gildas.

"So," he began, "Have you noticed your brother being in love with someone?"

 

XxXxX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe...
> 
> Am I about to get threatened?
> 
> Sorry, he just decided to show up and snarl and attack. At least everyone is alive...
> 
> As for Bartholemew and Oisin, you'll see.


End file.
